


Star

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Ficlet, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 10:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Messing with the computers gives Hikaru a view he didn’t bargain for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It takes Hikaru a week to get the screen running on the ceiling over his bed, mostly because he keeps getting called away for duty in the middle of hooking it up. Then when he does get back for the night, he’s too exhausted to fiddle with wires and codes. But he gets it up eventually, two meters long and one meter tall, set up to stream a view of the outside—of the stars. Or at least, that’s what he plans to set it up with, now that he’s got it mounted and working. He just needs to tap into the bridge’s view, and he’ll have it.

His quarters on the Enterprise are otherwise fairly sparse and nondescript. This will change all that. Sometimes it’s hard to sleep, so far away from home like this, knowing he could be jarred awake at any moment to form a landing party or fight off Klingons. A soothing set of stars should help—he got the idea off Chekov, the first to ingeniously set up such a screen and video feed. _They could make midnight calls to each other, sometimes_ , he’d said, to Hikaru’s light blush. Hikaru’s lying in bed now, tucked under the covers with the controller in his hand, accessing cameras. An unauthorized option pops up—must be something another crewmember set up and keyed into the computers, though how far the range of accessibility goes for it, Hikaru’s got no clue. Probably another low-level officer somewhere on the same floor. Hikaru smirks to himself. He’s not the only one bored on a starship, then. 

Solely out of curiosity, he streams it for a quick look. The screen above him flicks on, mirroring his room exactly, looking down from a ceiling, right onto a bed aligned with his. Shocked, Hikaru automatically goes for the off-button—he didn’t mean to spy on anyone in that intimately—but then he registers who’s on the bed, and his hand freezes.

Pavel Chekov’s turned on his side, half out of the blankets. He’s in nothing but his underwear, tight, grey boxers pushed a little too far down his sides, showing off his hips. His thin waist and chest are arched in the low lamplight, pale skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. The light curls are plastered to his forehead, eyes closed and lips parted, gasping for air. One hand is curled into a fist at his mouth, palm pressed to his teeth, stifling his sounds, and the other hand is reaching down his body, fingers wrapped around his—

This is wrong. This is very, very wrong, and every bone in Hikaru’s body is saying to turn it off, except the ones right around his nether regions, which are telling him it’s too much of a turn-on. He knew Chekov was cute, of course—everybody does. He’s younger than Hikaru—a fresh graduate with the brains to blow right through the Academy. Smart enough to turn off his camera if he was going to _do this_. His hand speeds up and he throws his head back, moaning loud enough to make Hikarus’ toes curl. Chekov sounds like _sheer sex_.

He must be getting too hot (he looks _so hot_ ), and he throws the blanket aside, shoving it out of the way and kicking it off the bed, long legs twisting in the mattress. Then he’s rolling onto his front and grinding down into the white sheets, slow and steady. His boxers are tugged down just enough for the cheeks of his ass to peek out, tight, taut, and round. If Hikaru were there, he’d grab them and kiss them and bite them, maybe spank them until they turned pink...

Shit. What’s he doing? He’s crossing a line. But he’s already dropped the controller. His hand’s inadvertently traveled down his body, but he uses all his willpower not to let it duck inside his pajamas. Instead, he rubs himself through his pants, watching Chekov roll back around and onto his back, spreading his legs in the mattress and thrusting into the air. His cock appears and disappears between his fingers, being pumped raw. Chekov’s other hand starts to run through his hair, and he writhes and whimpers beautifully. He has such pretty lips. Nice and pink. They’d probably look wonderful wrapped around Hikaru’s—

If there is a hell, Hikaru’s going there. What was the old expression? In a hand basket. The scary thing is, it might be worth it. 

He shouldn’t have streamed sound. It didn’t even occur to him as something to filter out—there isn’t any sound in space. But now he can hear every breath Chekov takes, ragged and deep, every one on the border of a gasp or a moan. Chekov’s eyes flicker half open, lashes brushing his cheek and revealing a hint of those light eyes, pupils blown wide. He closes them again and grits his teeth suddenly, hand stilling. 

He rolls back onto his side, presses his cheek to the mattress, and moans in the filthiest voice Hikaru’s every heard, “ _Suuulu..._ ”

Then he comes over his own hand, shooting across the sheets and his chest. The sound he makes is pure eroticism itself, body a work of art, toes curling and fingers clawing at the bedding. At this moment, Hikaru would give anything to be in that bed. He’s impossibly hard just from watching. He watches the orgasm wrack through Chekov’s lithe body, and he watches Chekov collapse in bliss, squirming to get comfortable again and whimpering, and he watches Chekov pull the blanket back onto the bed. He doesn’t crawl under it: just sidles up to it, latching onto it like a body pillow. He should be wrapped around Hikaru instead.

Apparently, he wants to be. Hikaru’s throat is dry. 

He feels blindly for the controller, unable to look away, and forces himself to click the screen off. 

Then he rolls promptly on to his stomach, not sure if he’s more ashamed or excited. He should never access that camera again. Assuming Chekov turns it on again. _Because maybe he did it on purpose._

Hikaru will likely check tomorrow, if he’s not already on the other side of the screen. And to think he wasted so much time making small talk with Chekov in the mess hall, slowly building up to a friendship, something he can turn into more with time and courage if he wanted to. If he wanted to? How was that even a question before? He may ditch the ask-to-borrow-a-specific-Russian-book-just-to-visit-Chekov’s-quarters plan already set for tomorrow.

Or maybe he’ll go through with that and instead ask to borrow a camera. ...Or a ‘helping’ hand.


End file.
